The Maze (1953).

Review #2614: The Maze (1953).

Cast: 

Richard Carlson (Gerald MacTeam), Veronica Hurst (Kitty Murray), Katherine Emery (Edith Murray), Michael Pate (William), John Dodsworth (Dr. Bert Dilling), Hillary Brooke (Peggy Lord), Stanley Fraser (Robert), Lilian Bond (Margaret Dilling), Owen McGiveney (Simon), and Robin Hughes (Richard Roblar) Directed by William Cameron Menzies (#448 - Invaders from Mars, #449 - Things to Come)

Review:

Oh sure, why not go with the gimmick movie? This was the final movie to be directed by William Cameron Menzies (for which the credit is listed as "production designed and directed"), who you likely remember from such films as Invaders from Mars and Things to Come; he directed fourteen movies, four as a co-director. With this production, the film was based on the story of the same name by Maurice Sandoz (which apparently had illustrations from Salvador Dali), with Daniel Ullman serving as screenwriter. While it ended up as his last directorial effort, he didn't leave film entirely, with his last fieldwork being the associate producer and designer on Around the World in Eighty Days [1956]. Suffering from cancer, Menzies died in 1957 at the age of 60.

It really does depend on how much you can forgive from the ending. No, really, you either are into the movie for the atmosphere of being entrapped in a tight space and wondering just what lurks in the dark, moving around that has such a grip on one guy. I wonder how the 3D was for the movie when it was released. Sure, you only get the smallest of gimmicky stuff with a bat flying at the camera, but it's mostly a movie trying to make you feel like you're at a haunted house, filled with fog, only men for butlers, odd little trees and locked doors (and, for a thankfully brief amount of time, a narrator to foreshadow some of the stuff that happens). And yet...it just doesn't come all the way together. Hurst and Emery can only carry the movie (one of 80 minutes) before you start to get restless at the fact that Carlson does not make for much of a spooked man. For someone who is meant to try and stop people from coming in, he has the qualities of a stone statue that don't make for particularly interesting drama. His peril (suddenly looking older because, well, castle-aging) is as intense as a wet sponge. The group of friends don't even lend themselves to a potential body-count or anything other than the most mild of "oh hey, that's a person" reaction. It's all mood-based vibes on feeling the atmosphere and crushing feeling of the unknown and oh good grief, at a certain point, that's just not enough. 

And then the moment of truth happens of when you get through a maze and figure out just what the hell is there. The following either sinks the movie into amusement or just takes the cake in sheer audacity, so the following lines will be marked in white for you to scroll if you are curious.

So, in the movie, a bunch of people eventually all come to the castle to confront the guy who basically ghosted them to live in the place with some servants. What they find is that there is a thing lurking around the manor at night while their doors are all locked. The thing that lurks in the castle is actually the real master of the castle, who is...a frog. No, really, the master is a person born in the 1700s that somehow never made it past an amphibious "embryonic stage" that made him only able to live a long time because he was a frog-like creature (who bellows like an elephant, by the way) that liked to swim in a pond. And then, with the powers of a frog (neat costume)...he gets spooked, runs and then falls from a balcony to his death when the others discover him. A *prideful* 200-year-old frog, dead from a fall. You see the frog-man for all of what, two minutes? He actually gets a gravestone at the end, stating "Sir Roger Philip MacTeam, Bart. of Craven, 1750-1953". Imagine if someone actually asked about that gravestone! I just couldn't help but laugh. You get looped in to watch a movie of shadows and fog with the bare minimum of curiosity of what's in the maze, and a damn frog is there! Maybe that Frogs horror movie made them scary, but shoot, who's afraid of frogs? My mom is one, but still...

Now, you might be wondering. How does the real master being...well, that...mean that a guy decides to drop everything and then go back to relative normalness when the macabre end comes? Well, it doesn't matter now, Carlson's character just...goes with it. I couldn't help but chuckle when the big moment came to go along with the eventual explanation, particularly for a movie that didn't even bother to have one of these people engage in real tension. They just...find the secret and then it solves itself in the most convenient way possible. Imagine if anyone else asks among the group about their experiences and they get...that for an explanation. As a whole, there are highlights to be found within its look and select moments from the crew of people having to deal in maze-bound terror, but I just wish I enjoyed it more. It's a curious movie, but it just wasn't for me.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953).

Review #2549: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

Cast: 

Jane Russell (Dorothy Shaw), Marilyn Monroe (Lorelei Lee), Charles Coburn (Sir Francis "Piggy" Beekman), Elliott Reid (Ernie Malone), Tommy Noonan (Gus Esmond Jr), George Winslow (Henry Spofford III), Marcel Dalio (the magistrate), Taylor Holmes (Mr. Esmond Sr), Norma Varden (Lady Beekman), and Howard Wendell (Watson) Directed by Howard Hawks (#951 - The Big Sleep, #1352 - His Girl Friday, #1399 - Rio Bravo, #1687 - O. Henry's Full House, #1773 - Red River, #2060 - Bringing Up Baby)

Review: 

Sure, Howard Hawks made a musical. Apparently, Hawks had one more film he owed to 20th Century Fox, so it fell to this. The film is based on the 1949 Broadway musical of the same name (with the book by Joseph Fields and Anita Loos, lyrics by Leo Robin, and music by Jule Styne), which in turn was based on the hit 1925 novel (originally serialized as sketches in Harper's Bazaar) that had been written by Anita Loos about, well, a blonde gold-digger and a flapper. Sure, the film was not going to retain the original Broadway duo of Carol Channing and Yvonne Adair as the two stars, because Fox wanted Betty Grable and Ginger Rogers, but what they saw from Niagara (1953) with Monroe led to them going with her. Hawks stated he did none of the production numbers on purpose, which were staged by Jack Cole, once called the "the Father of Theatrical Jazz Dance"; he ultimately worked with Monroe on several films all the way to his last with Let's Make Love [1960]. In his book Hawks on Hawks, he described Monroe as "the most frightened little girl who had no confidence in her ability", with filming basically relying on the patience of Hawks and Russell, although he said he did have fun on the film. In 1955, United Artists released Gentlemen Marry Brunettes (as based on, what else, an Anita Loos novel) that had Russell in a different role paired with Jeanne Crain that had Cole involved but with Richard Sale as director, which did not end up as a major success.

This is one of those movies that I find myself waffling over how good it is, mainly because my patience for musicals is not nearly as great as I wish it was (I think when I was younger I never really got off the high of Singin' in the Rain). With this movie, it rides well on the shenanigans from a fairly game duo of leading women that make worthwhile friends from the jump that is far more curious than, say, seeing where the actual ending goes. It zips along with a few musical numbers of varying quality (mostly good, but I think we know which one is the most discussed) that has some glamour (along with mostly authentic singing* from the actual stars) for 91 minutes. To be honest, for me, Russell is the more interesting of the two leads when it comes to timing*, because she is quite funny without having to strain at actually having fun with the people around her or the good friendship with Monroe, because they exchange the type of pleasantries and hijinks that is alluringly curious. Monroe is just as fun, a real go-getter with the natural ability to just exude bubbly charm without being swallowed up in ditzy generalizations, which helps when considering the ditzy qualities that actually around with the prominent men in the film (Reid, Coburn, Noonan, although at least Holmes is supposed to be stuffy and Winslow, well, he's a kid). Basically, both Russell and Monroe glide through the film as if they were laughing the whole way through. Hell, they both get to do renditions of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" (Russell in a wig for a delightfully funny scene near the end and, well, you know the sequence with Monroe in a pink dress), what's not to like? The diamonds may be somebody's best friend, but it's the dynamic between the two in that authentic sense of self that makes it all go together far more than wondering what the fuss about tiaras are about. As a whole, it's basically a movie that freewheels on the charm of Russell and Monroe with a few fine songs and some sparkly glamour to basically ride to the finish line with excitement for those who buy into its charms.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day (obvious choice)!

*Yes, the last musical I saw in theaters was Cats (2019), why do you ask?

*Varied claims say that Gloria Wood and Marni Nixon provided a bit of help with "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend"

Pickup on South Street.

Review #2541: Pickup on South Street.

Cast: 

Richard Widmark (Skip McCoy), Jean Peters (Candy), Thelma Ritter (Moe Williams), Murvyn Vye (Captain Dan "Tiger"), Richard Kiley (Joey), Willis Bouchey (Zara), Milburn Stone (Winoki), Vic Perry (Lightning Louie a.k.a. "Godkin"), Harry Carter (Detective Dietrich), George E. Stone (Willie, police desk clerk), George Eldredge (Fenton), and John Gallaudet (Detective Lieutenant Campion) Directed by Samuel Fuller (#1790 - Park Row, #2234 - The Steel Helmet, #2400 - The Baron of Arizona)

Review: 

"People living on the edge of society don't give a damn about politics. I wanted my film to be told through the eyes of the powerless. Cold war paranoia? Hell, these crooks were more interested in just getting by."

Sure, it's time again to encounter a Samuel Fuller movie. Pickup on South Street was his sixth feature as a director. With the finishing of Park Row, Fuller, under contract with Darryl F. Zanuck at 20th Century Fox, was approached with a script called "Blaze of Glory" by Dwight Taylor (a former reporter for The New Yorker before becoming a writer with films such as When Tomorrow Comes [1939] and I Wake Up Screaming [1941]) about a woman lawyer falling in love with her criminal client in a murder trial. He liked it, but as a newspaper man in his old days, he knew those cases take time to play out, so he instead wanted to do a film about an outlaw and their gal but on the scale of small-time thieves. Alluding to hot button issues of the time such as fears of communists and secrets being sold (such as the mostly recent case of Klaus Fuchs), Fuller stated later that he wanted to "take a poke at the idiocy of the cold war climate of the fifties". Incidentally, the working title was "Pick-pocket", but executives thought it sounded too "European", so it eventually landed on a title that was inspired by Fuller's special memories of South Street in New York (in 1959, French filmmaker Robert Bresson directed a movie, called, well, Pickpocket). He soon did research on pickpockets through NYPD Detective Dan Campion, who he based the character Tiger on*. Fuller was given credit for the screenplay while Taylor was credited with the story. Despite grumblings from FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover about the nature of the film (which never refers to the FBI at any point), the movie breezed through to release without a hitch, which saw it make double its budget of $780,000 back with audiences. In 1967, 20th Century Fox released The Cape Town Affair, a film shot in South Africa that basically was a remake (with Fuller being co-credited for the screenplay with "Harold Medford") that had James Brolin and Jacqueline Bissett cast in the lead roles alongside Claire Trevor.

All Fuller cared about was making a thriller about people on the margins, and he sure got it here with a satisfying feature that has a dark streak in people that wanted to get by with what they had. Even in a movie filmed on a set, you still have the feeling of seeing a tremendous city of strange seediness. It's a noir movie that is both rich and lean enough for all to enjoy for 80 minutes. It all rides on the cool nature of Widmark (who worked with Fuller once more with Hell and High Water [1954]), who is the usual cocksure self that is easy enough to like for what he does in the long run of tricks and guile. He doesn't care for flag-waving or people trying to get one over on him because if anybody is going to be the conman (physically or emotionally), it's going to be him. Fuller wanted an "average-looking woman" for the lead, which namely meant not wanting Ava Gardner or Betty Grable (contemporary articles apparently stated Grable rejected it, while Fuller's autobiography claimed otherwise) and landed on the bow-legged walking of Peters, who I guess is the kind of person who could make a guy like Widmark try to walk a semi-straight and narrow path, even if they have some offbeat scenes together; at one point, trying to confront someone breaking into his little shabby place. Widmark socks the first thing he sees, which happens to be Peters. Ritter (in an award nominated role) makes for quality support as a stoolie that still has a semblance of charm that shines right through to her final scene, an informant of the streets with standards right to the bitter end. The adversaries are the usual type of crook to lie within the lines of noir (really it could be anybody besides Commies), even if at a certain point you know where it's going to go. With a cast like this, it's got something for everyone with the type of people that show up every now and then. As a whole, if you like the hard touches of Fuller in tabloid narratives and being straight to the point, you'll have plenty to appreciate here. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*Daniel J. Campion served 27 years on the force, which saw him serve as a detective on the pickpocket squad beginning in 1929. He retired in 1954, and died in 1958 at the age of 54. 

Gate of Hell.

Review #2393: Gate of Hell.

Cast: 

Kazuo Hasegawa (Endo Morito), Machiko Kyō (Lady Kesa), Isao Yamagata (Wataru Watanabe), Yatarō Kurokawa (Taira no Shigemori), Kōtarō Bandō (Rokuroh), Jun Tazaki (Kogenta), Koreya Senda (Taira no Kiyomori), and Masao Shimizu (Fujiwara no Nobuyori) Directed by Teinosuke Kinugasa (#735 - A Page of Madness)

Review: 

Remember Teinosuke Kinugasa? Well, it seemed appropriate to try and remember the man who gave us A Page of Madness (1926; at the time, people thought the movie was lost). Born in Kameyama, Mie Prefecture, he went from being an actor (at least until the onnagata of men specializing in female roles became less prevalent) to becoming a director who made over a hundred movies from 1922 to 1966, and one of those movies included Gate of Hell [known in Japan as Jigokumon] for Daiei Film. The 1950s saw the dawn of Japan getting to see feature films in glorious color, at least occasionally. Carmen Comes Home (1951), as released by Shochiku, was the first to set that trend. Daiei Film, a studio formed during World War II, had their key place come early. They were behind the production of Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon (1950), the first big piece of a great age for Japanese films going beyond its native country. So, what film did Daiei make for its first color of production? Gate of Hell was based off the play Kesa's Husband by author/publisher Kan Kikuchi (coincidence or not, he actually was the first president of the studio*). The script was written by Teinosuke Kinugasa and Masaichi Nagata (the president of Daiei Film), which is generally put in the "jidaigeki" genre (okay that just translates to period dramas before the Meiji Restoration, which in this case is way way back in the 1100s). The movie was done in Eastmancolor (as one does when having imported film stock) and it so happens that you can watch the film in its restored form for quite some time now. In 1954, the movie was awarded two Academy Awards: the "Honorary Foreign Language Film Award" and for Best Costume Design (back in the days of awarding ones for films in color) to go along with the grand prize at the Cannes Film Festival.

For 86 minutes, one does get a wonderfully curious movie to experience in all of the glances possible, which extends beyond the vivid reds and greens that come across the screen. You might call it a polite sort of tragedy in the slow boil that comes through with this movie, one that allows you to peek behind the curtain of what people seemed to look like in the seemingly quaint times and what really lurks beyond pleasantries and appearances. Sure, those first couple of minutes (call it about 20) are probably the most sluggish in terms of setup, but it is generally worth it after that because of what you will see in the aftermath of conflict that merely leads into the seething-type of conflict. Hasegawa was a prolific actor for over 300 movies in his life, and he does pretty well with this role that an actor would love to have play out on the stage in his unnerving conviction that plays out here. It isn't so much that he is playing a villain as much as you are watching a creature wrapped in lust and obsession that might as well fit the title of the film. Sure, you could label him as just an obsessed creep, but you have to understand that his plight is not exactly helped by the people around him (in terms of samurais, remember). Kyō (speaking of prolific actresses, she was in Rashomon) does quite well with showing the terror that comes across in being wrapped in a situation of an unwieldly triangle that isn't really love on all sides and also isn't easy to simply untangle from (in contrast, one sees a calm Yamagata, at least for one living in such polite surroundings involving samurai that isn't just taking up a sword). Wishes to acquire others are thought to be what you might call quaint rather than, well, pick any other word besides "odd", but you do get to see from one person the true meaning of sacrifice. If it wasn't already stressed to you, it is a pretty movie to watch, one that strikes you with its colors in vivid nature that remind you what it means to look and feel what a film is trying to convey to you about people and surroundings that make for a vibrant experience. It has its highs and lows in pacing, but it never stumbles in being a worthwhile film worth a close eye.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*Incidentally, he is the namesake of an award for achievement in Japanese literary culture.

The Bigamist (1953).

Review #2363: The Bigamist.

Cast: 

Joan Fontaine (Eve Graham), Ida Lupino (Phyllis Martin), Edmund Gwenn (Mr. Jordan), Edmond O'Brien (Harry Graham / Harrison Graham), Kenneth Tobey (Tom Morgan, Defense Attorney), Jane Darwell (Mrs. Connelley), Peggy Maley (Phone Operator), and Lilian Fontaine (Miss Higgins, Landlady) Directed by Ida Lupino (#799 - The Hitch-Hiker, #1651 - Never Fear, #1811 - Not Wanted, #1991 - Outrage, #2189 - Hard, Fast and Beautiful)

Review: 

At last, here is a movie where a woman was directing herself for a major feature film, as this was apparently the first of its kind in the sound era. It just happened to be the sixth feature film by Ida Lupino and her near swansong. The Filmmakers, the company behind these films in collaboration with her then-husband Collier Young, wasn't merely just a vanity project, they released such movies as Charles Lederer's On the Loose (1951), Harry Horner's Beware My Lovely (1952). There were just two more movies released by the company after The Bigamist: Don Siegel's Private Hell 36 (released in 1954 and co-written by Lupino and Young) and Harry Essex's Mad at the World (1955). After co-writing two of her previous five movies as a director, this was one with a different type of writing: Lawrence B. Marcus and Lou Schor wrote the story while Young wrote the screenplay by himself. It should be mentioned that by this time, Young was married to Joan Fontaine, as if one was essentially writing about himself when talking about loving different women (actually it went both ways, Lupino married Howard Duff pretty quickly after she and Young were divorced). The company had to distribute the movie itself when RKO Pictures pulled out, and the company effectively went by the wayside in trying to get into self-distribution. Lupino continued to direct in television for several years afterwards while directing one more film: The Trouble With Angels (1965)*.

Incidentally, bigamy is a considerable crime that could range from infraction (Utah) to a felony. Perhaps coincidentally, this movie was released in the same year that the "largest mass arrest of polygamist in American history" was done, in which Short Creek, Arizona had hundreds of Mormon fundamentalists arrested while children were removed from their families (some children never returned to their families). If it was made in a slightly different timespan, who knows what kind of exploitation would've been made about the sordid things that happen with living a double life. At any rate, it probably isn't too surprising to see the movie is a noir of its own, complete with a lengthy flashback that eventually will see a perhaps inevitable clash of the traps that come with the times one lives in within an 80-minute runtime. With a title like that, one might see the angle for someone to turn it into exploitation fare or something to perhaps preach to the pulpit, but what we really have is a movie with three solid leads that are presented with clear-cut honesty about the foibles that come with a person that simply does not want to decide between two women where he knows someone is going to get hurt. It is the kind of wishy-washy nature that could only happen with a man that has the particular status to be wrapped up in such a venture (some people have mistresses, others, well, have women). It helps to have a quartet like this, packed with two Academy Award winning actors with Fontaine and Gwenn and a future winner with O'Brien. You can see where O'Brien shines in the dilemma that comes with a man that cannot be hated but is instead found to be in a weird sort of road where one would wish him luck with a performance that rides the line of loneliness with commitment. His bout with lies and truth (the ones he tells to others but also to himself) tangle with ambiguity because you really don't know where he will find himself at the end of the prison road (beyond the money part). Fontaine may be his first love, but Lupino gave him something distinct as the other side of a coin wrapped with bare truths for a man who could not stand to be alone or "not doing the right thing". Lupino and Fontaine each play it straight to the point of what might as well be two sides of the same woman: distant on one side that one might forget really does love them and a side that is distinctly unsentimental but vulnerable. Gwenn handles his part with dry observation (as one does when mostly being inquisitive here). The movie isn't exactly as curious in its execution as say, The Hitch-Hiker, but at least it has enough of an ending in ambiguity to at least stick the landing. In short: one isn't seeing bigamy be endorsed on screen but instead one sees the idea that some marriages are suspectable to not being the "norm" than others, particularly when the gossip is around the corner. It ranks firmly in the middle of Lupino's other works but makes for a fair swansong to the run of Lupino movies for an era that didn't necessarily have many people like her making movies with something interesting to show on screen.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*Okay, this sounded too tabloid, but I kid you not: Lupino also starred on a TV show with her husband Duff with Mr. Adams and Eve...as executive produced by Young.

The Wages of Fear.

Review #2337: The Wages of Fear.

Cast: 

Yves Montand (Mario), Charles Vanel (Jo), Folco Lulli (Luigi), Peter van Eyck (Bimba), Véra Clouzot (Linda), William Tubbs (Bill O'Brien), Darío Moreno (Hernandez), and Jo Dest (Smerloff) Directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot.

Review: 

Time really does mean some directors and films stand tall after death. Henri-Georges Clouzot actually attended Naval school before his myopia made his interests turn elsewhere. He studied political science and eventually found work in writing, which soon led him to work in a Berlin studio involving translation and writing (with his first short film coming in 1931). He was fired from his studio job with the rise of Nazism in 1934 and soon became plagued by tuberculosis that had him sick for several years. He eventually found himself in a precarious place where Continental Films was his own place to get work in France...a German-operated company established after Germany invaded France. Clouzot wrote for the studio. He made his directorial debut with The Murderer Lives at Number 21 (1942). His second effort was Le Corbeau (1943), loosely based on an actual case of strange letters sent to people, and it managed the strange feat of being scrutinized by both the Vichy regime and anti-Nazi resistance members that led to Clouzot being fired from Continental. When France was liberated, Clouzot was tried as a "collaborator" that initially had him banned from filmmaking. A few years later, he was allowed to direct again, and he returned with Quai des Orfèvres (1947). Clouzot's reputation had peaks and valleys that really happened with both The Wages of Fear (1953) and Les Diaboliques (1955). Marred by health problems and a few public critiques from filmmakers of the "French New Wave" that he took to heart, Clouzot made just one film after 1960 with La prisonnière (1968). Clouzot died at the age of 69 in 1977. The Wages of Fear is based on the 1950 novel Le Salaire de la peur by Georges Arnaud Clouzot co-wrote the screenplay with Jérome Geronimi. The novel has been adapted a handful more times: Howard W. Koch's Violent Road (1958) took inspiration from the book without saying as such, while William Friedkin made his own adaptation of the novel with Sorcerer (1977). In 2024, a Netflix "film" was released, as directed by Julien Leclercq.

It really is a gripping time to watch tension play out in slow burning essence. The 153-minute runtime basically feels like a gliding motion, one that looks upon its four leads in all the nerves possible for a trip through hell. There are four pillars of doom one eventually sees all get dropped into a figurative board that seemingly favors nothing but random chance.  They are comrades only in the sense of being united in an insane mission that is grinded away by the immovable hand of fate, complete with a capable quartet to carry the film along in grimy patience of warped sensibilities in some way. Singer-turned-actor Montand is particularly effective in selling the sorrow that comes in too much time for leisure in a dead-end space. Vanel and his illusory bravado that comes with an actor confident enough to let the role breathe without turning it into false pity that is undeniably gripping in the same sense that arises with seeing him and Montand when compared from the first half of the film to afterwards. Lilli and van Eyck might seem normal when compared to those two, but their warped sense of self is still pretty easy to see through just seeing them as either a buffoon or machine-like efficacy that only makes their pursuit all the more curious. Incidentally, this was the last film for Tubbs, who died in 1953 from a heart ailment at 45; he pulls off a worthwhile performance in blithering American type of grime that works with such a tight amount of screentime. One can cite quite a few sequences fit for feeling that tension firsthand, such as the timber platform sequence or the scene with explosive rocks or that illuminating (in more ways than one) scene in the oil. By the time the movie closes itself out in an ideal type of way when it comes to the price of fears and fearlessness, one has seen a pretty good experience in terms of tension.  Admittedly, trying to compare the film with Sorcerer is pretty futile, mainly because both are pretty interesting movies in distinctive visions for the source material that one won't go wrong with watching either movie in terms of tension. As a whole, what you get here is a worthwhile film on the unravelling nature of fear in a journey of terror that makes the most of its atmosphere and tension for quite the curiosity. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The War of the Worlds (1953).

Review #2172: The War of the Worlds.

Cast: 

Gene Barry (Doctor Clayton Forrester), Ann Robinson (Sylvia van Buren), Les Tremayne (Major General Mann), Bob Cornthwaite (Doctor Pryor), Sandro Giglio (Doctor Bilderbeck), Lewis Martin (The Reverend Doctor Matthew Collins), Housely Stevenson Jr (General Mann's aide), Bill Phipps (Wash Perry), Vernon Rich (Colonel Ralph Heffner), Henry Brandon (Cop at crash), Jack Kruschen (Salvatore), with Paul Frees (Radio reporter/pre-titles narrator) and Cedric Hardwicke (post-titles narrator) Directed by Byron Haskin.

Review: 

Oh hell, this one was on my mind for quite some time. It is one of those films you either were in the right age as a youth watching alien invasion movies as a kid or one that missed your outlook because the 2005 version of The War of the Worlds was fresher in your mind (in my memory, my parents took 8-year-old me to the theater to watch it and I fell asleep after about 20 minutes). People even older or perhaps a fan of greater history involving a certain director/performer know the 1938 radio play of the book just as well. Luckily, with a month dedicated to "New Directors", this was the perfect time to highlight Byron Haskin. Born in Portland but raised in San Francisco, he was a director and an effects man in his time after service in the Naval Reserve Force in World War I. He served as a cinematographer and effects man in the silent age (with a few directing jobs for 1927 before a decade-long break), which saw him eventually rise to special effects head of Warner Bros. by 1937. His department were given an Academy Award for Technical Achievement with the rear-projection system they came up with for photographing effects. He returned to directing with uncredited work for the morale booster Action in the North Atlantic (1943) before a proper return with the thriller I Walk Alone (1947), the first film to pair Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas together. It was Haskin who was hired to direct the first complete live-action Disney production with Treasure Island (made in 1950 as also the first adaptation of the book in color). Haskin worked with producer George Pal on three further films after this one: The Naked Jungle (1954), Conquest of Space (1955), and The Power (1968), with the latter being Haskin's last as a director prior to his death in 1984 at the age of 84. As for Pal, the Hungarian emigrant had been known in the 1940s for his work on animated short subjects ("Puppetoons", as they were) that saw him nominated for Academy Awards seven straight years). His first feature production was The Great Rupert (1950), which involved stop-motion animation for a squirrel. This was done in tandem with Destination Moon (1950), one of the first big movies about space travel in the Space Age. Other sci-fi productions of his included When Worlds Collide (1951) and films such as this, which cost $2 million. 

The screenplay was done by Barré Lyndon, as done through conversations had with Haskin, Pal, and Frank Freeman Jr (associate producer); it was Pal and Haskin who tasked themselves to not show a scene from the POV of the Martians, no matter what the studio asked. The film is based on 1898 novel of the same name as written by H. G. Wells, which, well, was obviously going to be a distinct story that the film makes modifications to, considering its setting in London (in the Victorian age) with fast moving tripods that were 10 stories tall. Paramount Pictures had the rights to the book since the 1920s (as suggested by Cecil B. DeMille, once tapped for an adaptation), which is how this is the first adaptation of the book Albert Nozaki helped design the war machines of the Martians (as shaped from manta rays), which is made even better with all the matte paintings used to get the disintegration effects (in total for effects, it took over half a year to finish). Haskin worked in "close collaboration" with the sketches that came for the effects that had been done by Nozaki with supervision by art director Hal Pereia. So good was the effects that it was awarded a Special Achievement Award by the Academy Awards (the third time that a Pal production had been awarded in that regard). Of course, for a long time one could only see the film with color stock that made the wires holding the alien creatures visible. It is a captivating film worth the 85 minutes, as I expected. Hardwicke delivers a resounding narration for what leads to the idea of Martians choosing Earth to invade over other planets. It is efficient in establishing suspense with worthwhile adventure due to the quality of the action presented within its effects and suitable characterization to deliver its endpoint (of all the modifications made, the climax of book and film are not too different, go figure). Barry (in his second film role after years on Broadway and television, where he is best known) is at the head of the acting to deal with said effects (remember that one is acting here to effects that won't be there at the time of filming), which he does as the most curious of the bunch to worthy patience that carries his weight to drive the film forward. The terror in seeing Los Angeles run amok in terror is carried by effects for a good chunk of well-executed suspense, but Barry and his desperation to maintain some sort of order is key to that as well. Robinson does reasonably well in the attempts to wind and unwind at the hands of terror, which gets handled with that last couple of sequences involving sanctuary (strangely enough, she was the one returning actor in the syndication series in 1988, which had been planned by Pal prior to his death). I like Martin and the buildup before that last sequence he is to accentuate just how much terror is presented with the creatures (well, aside from the scene before it that cuts right at the ideal time). Tremayne and others deliver the lean and ready exposition required where there are no false notes or bland bluster for what an effects-driven capsule of entertainment it is in the long run. The probe effect is wonderful to look upon, particularly since the film doesn't show much of the overall alien anyway. There was a sea of sci-fi movies with either a big effect involving ships or suits, but one thing that cannot be denied is that The War of the Worlds was near the top of its game at the time of release and even still now for those interested in neatly executed spectacle. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Hiroshi Inagaki's Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto.

Fear and Desire.

Review #2051: Fear and Desire.

Cast: 

Frank Silvera (Sgt. Mac), Kenneth Harp (Lt. Corby / The General), Paul Mazursky (Pvt. Sidney), Steve Coit (Pvt. Fletcher / The Captain), with Virginia Leith (The Girl), and David Allen (Narrator) Produced and Directed by Stanley Kubrick (#044 - Full Metal Jacket, #065 - The Shining, #093 - 2001: A Space Odyssey, #1046 - Barry Lyndon, #1301 - Dr. Strangelove, and #1440 - A Clockwork Orange)

Review: 

"I don't know a goddamn thing about movies, but I know I can make a better film than that." [c. 1950s]

Stanley Kubrick directed his first feature film with Fear and Desire at the age of 24 and later called it "a bumbling amateur film exercise". I would say that is possibly all you need to see the film for itself, if only because the ridiculous acts of Kubrick in trying to bury the film (which included calling the film awful when it was going to be commercially screened for the first time in decades in 1994) has made it something to look about when talking about Kubrick before he was known as Kubrick. Of course, he made rookie mistakes as any filmmaker could do, but most probably don't try to use crop sprayers to create fog only to nearly choke people when insecticide was found to be still inside. It also helps that the film is in the public domain and is also his shortest film at 61 minutes. It was originally shown at the Venice Film Festival in 1952 as "Shape of Fear" only to see distribution by Joseph Burstyn in 1953 (months before his death at the age of 53) under the title it is now known as. Kubrick had been born in New York City and was raised in the Bronx, where his interest in film and photography became apparent from an early age. After spending time as a photographer for Look magazine Kubrick became a director with three documentaries in Day of the Fight (1951), Flying Padre (1951), and The Seafarers (1953). The results of showing his films around got Kubrick some finances to try and make a feature film, with his uncle Martin Perveler contributing his key part. Howard Sackler, a friend of Kubrick and a future playwright (most notably The Great White Hope), wrote the screenplay. The film was shot over the course of a couple of weeks with a crew totaling just over a dozen people in the San Gabriel Mountains of California. Kubrick also shot and edited the film himself with the intent to make it a silent film, but this would change (which resulted in him making a deal with Richard De Rochemont in funding). The film did not receive great audience returns, but there were a few decent reviews Two years after the release of the film, Kubrick would direct his second film with Killer's Kiss, a crime film noir which he wrote with Sackler.

There is something to be said about a film like this that achieves a curiosity in such pictorial oddness. It is a strange film, one that is distinct in of itself from the future twelve films to come from such an interesting presence. What is there to say about a group of men and the conscious acts they make that compare with what is said on screen? Plenty, if the movie has anything to say for an argument. Sure, there is a plot about an assassination of an officer in this unnamed war that they are dealing with, but the real attraction is looking at these people up close in their attempt to not go up the river mentally and in a figurative sense. Any film that begins with narration that has lines such as "These soldiers that you see keep our language and our time but have no other country but the mind" can only inspire one to treat the film as a sort of odd fever dream. It is the kind of film that lives and dies on just how much of it you buy into, if only because it isn't the sort of with any great performances or definitive answers on the basis of fear. With that in mind for such a mechanical curiosity, I think it works out just fine. Danger, risk, desperation, being built for war or not, it all is a blur that is handled with weird touch from actors such as Mazursky, who has his most noted moment when trying to handle his delirium at being the only one in view of the one found captive in Leith or in the double-act played to general patience by Harp or Coit. Silvera is no slouch of course, with his pursuit for one great act of courage in the face of certain end being a curious one to let itself play out. As a whole, it is a curious film wrapped in a puddle of fear and expression that obviously shows the potential for its director rather than serving as an avoidable exercise, and it should be celebrated for the useful execution that squeezes by rather than left in the dust.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.

Review #1899: The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.

Cast: 

Paul Hubschmid (Professor Tom Nesbitt), Paula Raymond (Lee Hunter), Cecil Kellaway (Dr. Thurgood Elson), Kenneth Tobey (Colonel Jack Evans), Donald Woods (Captain Phil Jackson), Ross Elliott (George Ritchie), Steve Brodie (Sgt. Loomis), Jack Pennick (Jacob Bowman), Michael Fox (ER doctor), Lee Van Cleef (Corporal Jason Stone), and Frank Ferguson (Dr. Morton) Directed by Eugène Lourié.

Review: 

The creature feature is a fun one to think about in the Atomic Age, considering that you had films that ranged from ones attacking Tokyo to ones involving irradiated ants or octopuses. Sure, there were movies you might call "monster movies" beforehand such as The Lost World (1925) or King Kong (1933), but you have to consider how the dawn of nuclear paranoia with the 1950s made for a whole new element of creature terror, primarily as B-productions...and this one came in 1953, before Godzilla (1954) and others of its ilk.  The film is loosely based on the short story "The Fog Horn", written by Ray Bradbury (you may remember Bradbury as the writer of numerous short stories and novels such as Fahrenheit 451). That story involved a lighthouse with a horn that attracts the attention of a lone sea monster. The studio bought the rights to the story when the screenplay was in development, probably because of the lingering similarities between sea monster and creature from beneath the sea (besides, who wouldn't want to say they were based on a Bradbury work?). The screenplay was done by Fred Freiberger, Eugène Lourié, Louis Morheim, and Robert Smith. The career of its director is a bit fascinating. This was the debut of Lourie, who directed just three more films after this one: The Colossus of New York (1958), The Giant Behemoth (1959), and Gorgo (1961). The Russian-born Frenchman was first inspired by film when he saw his first cinema theater in 1911 as a six-year-old, and he even appeared as a bit player in films starting in 1919. By the 1930s, he would do work as an art director that spanned numerous directors such as Jean Renoir and Clint Eastwood. Of course, he noted later in life that he was typecast as a director of science fiction because of his work with this film (incidentally, he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Visual Effects on Krakatoa, East of Java in 1969).

Incidentally, Bradbury was a long-time friend of Ray Harryhausen. The Los Angeles native had an interest in animation since seeing King Kong (1933) numerous times, and he would study at the School of Cinematic Arts at the University of Southern California to hone skills in arts and sculpture. He would get a chance to work with his mentor Willis O'Brien as a technician on effects with the Academy Award awardee Mighty Joe Young (1949). When it came time for Fathoms, Harryhausen would get his first chance to do a film with himself in charge that saw him pioneering "Dynamation". The process required split-screen, rear projection, multiple pieces of glass between camera and screen with paint to black out the part that are meant to be in front of the creature required to be seen before using one that blackens out the reverse of the first glass. This required less building of miniatures that were apparent for stop-motion that could have a bit more interaction between creatures and actors. In total, Harryhausen would use the process for fifteen films from 1953 to 1981 as one of the most distinct effects people of the last half-century.

For an 80-minute movie made for roughly $200,000 (as produced by former Monogram associates in Jack Dietz and Hal E. Chester that saw distribution by Warner Bros.), it was a clear-cut success with audiences. It is a fun movie in its construction that pulls off spectacle with careful patience that never sells out for simply being a mash movie with no substance to it. Any movie that takes a little bit of time to cover how a nuclear weapons test goes. Sure, the actors aren't exactly doing stand-out performances, but making sure to not look goofy in the face of what is meant to be refreshing entertainment is something to give credit to, particularly since a handful of the actors were part of other monster movies besides being usual veterans of the screen, such as Tobey or Elliott. Hubschmid makes a solid lead in trying to make others believe a monster lurks while Kellaway works his charm in the "let's capture it alive" type to go with a soothing Raymond. They keep the edges at a fairly rounded level to make the scenarios work, whether that involves sharpshooting isotopes or trying to make people believe a monster exists. The effects are dazzling and effective in the moments required in making a capable threat, one seen terrorizing streets and even a lighthouse and rollercoaster ride with believability. My favorite part is the idea that the people can shoot the creature, which works for them shooting a hole in it before they find that the blood coming out from it is getting people really sick. That's one interesting way to have a scary monster that moves on four legs, one that can snatch police officers and chomp them and also get you sick if someone tries shooting holes in it. With a smooth monster, it is no wonder how this movie worked so well with audiences, because it is a fair treat that fit its era like a glove, pulling off entertainment with resourceful craftmanship fit for everyone.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Street Corner.

Review #1652: Street Corner.

Cast: 
Peggy Cummins (Bridget Foster), Terence Morgan (Ray), Anne Crawford (Susan), Rosamund John (Sergeant Pauline Ramsey), Barbara Murray (WPC Lucy), Sarah Lawson (Joyce), Ronald Howard (David Evans), Eleanor Summerfield (Edna Hurran), Michael Medwin (Chick Farrar), Charles Victor (Muller), and Anthony Oliver (Stanley Foster) Directed by Muriel Box.

Review: 

"It was the heyday of the cliff-hanging serials, the one- and two-reel slapstick comedies, and the flickering newsreels. King Edward VII's funeral was the most impressive spectacle we had ever seen." 

Being known as one of England's most prolific female directors should be quite an accomplishment, particularly when doing so in an era as long ago as the 1950s and 1960s. Consider this: Box directed a dozen movies in her life-time, and no other female director has matched this accomplishment since. Muriel Box (born Violette Baker near London) wanted to be an actress and dancer (after developing a love for cinema as a child during World War I), but her failings led to other pursuits. In 1929, she started as a secretary at British Instructional Films. In 1932, she would meet (and soon marry) journalist Sydney Box, and they would soon work together in writing, such as with short plays. Being involved with film was quite a family affair for the Boxes, as Sydney's sister would also be involved with Verity Films, for which the three would be behind production over hundreds of wartime propaganda shorts after its inception in 1940. Muriel would direct for the first time with the documentary short The English Inn (1941). The Boxes would work together extensively in the decade with writing scripts alongside producing one-act plays. The Seventh Veil (1945) would be their greatest achievement in terms of screenplay. Their screenplay would win an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay that year, which made Box the first woman to have won the award. It would spur Sydney to moved to head of production for Gainsborough Pictures while Muriel would do story department and Betty would be a lead producer. With The Lost People (1949), she received her first credit as co-director because of her work in post-production (the original director was Bernard Knowles), as she re-shot over half of the feature. The Rank Organization would close Gainsborough in 1949, and Betty would move to Pinewood Studios and become a noted producer in her own right, while Sydney would create London Independent Producers with Murial as one of the partners. Box set out to become a director with an adaptation of So Long at the Fair (1950) but star Jean Simmons (for some reason) insisted to Box being replaced. Regardless of the intrusion, in 1952, Muriel would do her first solo theatrical effort with The Happy Family, which she co-wrote with Sydney. Ultimately, Box would direct a dozen of films until her last one in 1964, which were characterized as low-budget mixes of comedy and drama despite facing doubts from those around her (one actress thought it would be "strange and uncomfortable" to have her as a director). Box was not ultimately finished doing work within promoting women, as she would co-found the first feminist publishing company in England with Femina in 1965.

This was her third theatrical effort, one that be characterized as part of her method of covering society through the roles of women - in this case, an episodic ensemble talking about female police officers. The film (also known as Both Sides of the Law) served as a compliment to The Blue Lamp (1950), a crime thriller that was quite notable for its social realism of the time. It is the kind of "torn from the headlines" movie, one with cooperation from the Metropolitan Police (incidentally, women were only allowed into the force in 1919). It isn't the kind of movie with fancy details as so much it is one that has a semi-documentary feel (complete with shooting in London) while involving vaguely connected stories about family disorder to go alongside mildly interesting drama that nevertheless still seems useful enough for a viewing for what it ends up doing in breezy entertainment. It isn't flashy or packed with grand memorability (such as the aforementioned Blue Lamp film, which inspired a TV series that lasted two decades), but it manages to do a quiet job in portraying the grind of the time with decent enough spectacle in careful pacing for 94 minutes. The main star is Cummins, the young Irish focus (of sorts, since 28 is the new 18, I guess) that has to carry tension with a bit of impulse shining through that keeps us curious for a role that could've been bent as simply one to scoff at. Morgan (who had a modest career sprinkled with "bad guy" roles) follows along as the alluring presence of shifty means that one could see making a good pull at someone's head (in a film with well-meaning cops and a few off-kilter people, he sticks out). Crawford and John (each near the end of their careers, as the former died in 1956 while the latter retired after one more film role) are our main focus in terms of the side of the police, and they carry the movie to where it needs to go in the business of procedural patience with fair charm - this isn't exactly the kind of role that needs devastating screen presences, merely someone who can play the role with that right sense of dutiful consistency. Summerfield makes up the secondary focus with her own shocking involvement with the police, somehow going from rescuing a kid from water while deserting the Army. She does fine with the role, slowly uncovering the layers as a reluctant hero with fair polish. There is another subplot involving a neglected child that also has its own little moments, but the sticking point is within Cummins and Morgan, particularly since one even gets to see a police dog take part of the carefully swift climax. As a whole, it is exactly the kind of film one could expect of a police drama of the 1950s from a British director - swift, fair to the point, and suitable to those who are curious for what it likes to say of the time. For Muriel Box, it serves as a fair and worthy achievement - quietly effective in performances over style with the budget and circumstances given that certainly merit consideration for one of England's most prominent female filmmakers for the time.

Next Time: While Joy Batchelor was a co-director on this film, it is still an intriguing one to consider, since it is the first British animated feature...Animal Farm.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Beat the Devil.

Review #1622: Beat the Devil.

Cast: 
Humphrey Bogart (Billy Dannreuther), Jennifer Jones (Mrs. Gwendolen Chelm), Gina Lollobrigida (Maria Dannreuther), Robert Morley (Peterson), Peter Lorre (Julius O'Hara), Edward Underdown (Harry Chelm), Ivor Barnard (Major Jack Ross), Marco Tulli (Ravello), Bernard Lee (Inspector Jack Clayton), Mario Perrone (Purser on SS Nyanga), Giulio Donnini (Administrator), and Saro Urzì (Captain of SS Nyanga) Directed by John Huston (#081 - The Maltese Falcon (1941), #094 - The Misfits, #224 - Casino Royale (1967), #419 - Key Largo, and #1379 - The African Queen)

Review: 

This is quite an interesting film to stick out in the careers of the people who made it, since it was the sixth and last collaboration between famed director John Huston and star Humphrey Bogart. It seems to have come full circle, since they first worked together with The Maltese Falcon (1941), and it has been argued that this film serves as a spoof of the earlier film - in fact, it has even been thought of by cult audiences as a campy favorite and cult classic. The fact that the film exists in the public domain and was not an immediate success probably aids in that argument. The film was an adaptation of the novel of the same name that was written by Claud Cockburn (using the pseudonym James Helvick, owing to his Communist ties). The author was quite interested in Huston directing a movie off his book, with him reportedly reciting portions of Cockburn's novel to Bogart over the phone, which helped convince him to help fund the film through his production company Santana Productions, while Romulus Films (who had worked with Huston before with The African Queen). Cockburn (whose works were once described as preoccupied with portraying the paradox of good intentions by his son, who grew up to be a journalist in his own right that named his column after the film) started work with Huston on the screenplay, although he was not credited for this (much to some irritation). According to his son, the film needed a change for its ending during the last days of filming, and Truman Capote (famed novelist and short story writer) happened to be visiting the set while in Italy (the author was in Ireland), which led to him being drafted to do work, although it is contended that the zippy dialogue is not so much Capote but Cockburn (Capote, for his part, described it as a spoof on the type of film like The Maltese Falcon); however, Huston in his autobiography stated that him and Capote (who by one report was suggested by David O. Selznick, an eager manager of his wife Jones) would write scenes just hours before they were to be shot. To add on to all the screenplay hubbub, Anthony Veiller and Peter Viertel had been hired to pen the initial script, but it was soon rejected. 

So yes, there is quite a curiosity in the history before even watching the film, but it doesn't hide the relative enjoyment one gets from a pretty good effort in a sometimes-serious, sometimes-quirky effort from a spirited cast doing their best oddball adventure comedy, which works depending on one's patience for its trajectories. After all, Bogart called it a movie that only "phonies" like, and Jones called it a film made as a "three ring circus" by Huston that considered her character to have no reality of any kind. I think the phony line has some basis in reality when it comes to thinking about enjoying a film in irony, such as with The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and its supposed camp appeal, until one actually sits down and watches the film and realizes the trick (or finds enjoyment). Beat the Devil has its own trick: trying to play off adventure in a semi-serious manner that winks at you with the tenor of a old friend who has had a bit too much to enjoy in beverage but isn't being a complete cloying clod of clamminess. It might as well be the result of the version most people have seen, which was edited from its original preview version, which ran for 94 minutes (as opposed to the 90 in usual copies) - a 4K restoration that contains the original version was done five years ago, which contains no flashback structure and narration as seen here. The best parts of the film are here and there, in that the gulf between interest in the main trio of Bogart-Jones-Lollobrigida and the support of Morley-Lorre-Underdown-Barnard-Tulli is nearly dead even, to where one might desire the latter over the former. Bogart (who one might notice having a few less teeth here and there, as a result of a car accident) does fine here, befuddled at the game he has pulled himself into yet just as collected as one could expect from him without pretense. Jones may have been befuddled by her character, but at least she makes a spirited effort, which has some zippy charm placed within a serviceable chemistry with Bogart. Lollobrigida (who went from small roles in films in the late 1940s to exposure with an appearance in the Miss Italia pageant in 1950) gives off fiery & frosty spunk that pairs handily when placed next to Bogart or Underdown. Morley, no stranger to roles tinged with pompous attitude, proves quite amusing as the head crook, moseying on with push-and-go maneuvering in would-be crime blustering. Lorre (tinged with graying hair for once) go along just as interesting in offbeat charm, one that can muse about time being a crook just as well as trying to pull off a conniving scheme. Underdown plays stuffiness to a T, standing out in his own manner of off-kilter tone in a film that has quite a few nuts in the tree to begin with in its love...diamond-shaped romance. Barnard (in his last film role) and Tulli fill the ship of fools and scoundrels just fine, while Lee serves as the authority figure for the climax (after the sequence with soldiers on the beach of course). At any rate, there are some nice camera shots from Oswald Morris (one of his crew included Freddie Francis, who would become an acclaimed cinematographer and director in his own right) to go with scenery shot in Italy that makes for a weirdly intriguing ride and curiosity. It isn't the tightest-packed adventure, nor is it a broadly amusing film, this much is true. But if one looks at it closely, one will find a charming little movie that has a quiet place among the careers of Bogart and Huston as sly and slick entertainment, moving along on its own broad march of lyrics without issues such as conventions getting in the way, where it even laughs to close out its final revealing moment. Whether that will work all the way for you is up for decision, but a fair tide of cult following for this film in the six decades since release certainly helps the judgement. In other words, it will please those who seek curiosity with their adventures with chuckles.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Stalag 17.

Review #1384: Stalag 17.

Cast: 
William Holden (J.J. Sefton), Don Taylor (Lieutenant James Dunbar), Otto Preminger (Colonel von Scherbach), Robert Strauss (Stanislas "Animal" Kuzawa), Harvey Lembeck (Harry Shapiro), Peter Graves (Price), Sig Ruman (Sergeant Johann Sebastian Schulz), Neville Brand (Duke), Richard Erdman ("Hoffy" Hoffman), Michael Moore (Manfredi), Peter Baldwin (Johnson), Robinson Stone (Joey), Robert Shawley ("Blondie" Peterson), William Pierson (Marko the Mailman), and Gil Stratton (Clarence Harvey "Cookie" Cook / Narrator) Produced and Directed by Billy Wilder (#106 - Some Like It Hot, #194 - Ace in the Hole, #422 - The Fortune Cookie, #641 - The Apartment, and #809 - Sunset Boulevard)

Review: 
"Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else's."

Nobody could quite as versatile as Billy Wilder for film. Born in Austria-Hungary, he found himself wanting to become a journalist from viewing a newsreel (as opposed to prelaw in college or the family business in cakes). He worked for magazines and newspapers in both Austria and Germany, but he eventually found himself wanting to be a screenwriter, with his first credit being for The Daredevil Reporter (1929). During his time in Germany, one notable film he wrote for was People on Sunday (1930), which had notable collaborators such as Edgar G. Ulmer. However, he left the country in 1933 for Paris after the rise of the Nazis. He had his directorial debut with his collaboration with Alexander Esway in Mauvaise Graine (1934) before deciding to leave for America. Over the next few years, he would find himself collaborating on film scripts that gradually found attention, most notably with Charles Brackett. For over a decade, the two would write scripts together (with a few occasions having an additional writer), with the first major hits coming in 1939 with Midnight and Ninotchka. Anxious at the idea of directing and not being confined with just writing, Wilder was given a chance with The Major and the Minor (1942). It was here that he met another important figure in honing the craft in editor Doane Harrison, who had edited Wilder and Brackett's Hold Back the Dawn the previous year. With Harrison on set, Wilder credited him for helping him in technical knowledge in terms of cutting so that there wouldn't be excess footage to deal with. The two would work together for the next two decades. Over the course of the next four decades, Wilder would direct and write plenty of noted successes in genres from noir to comedy drama, such as Double Indemnity (1944), The Lost Weekend (1945), and Sabrina (1954). In his career, he would win six Academy Awards on 21 nominations, with three of them being for screenplay, two for direction, and one for Best Picture.

The film is an adaptation of the Broadway play of the same name by Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski, who had based it on their experiences in a prison camp named Stalag 17B in Austria. When it comes to a war film about prisoners, there certainly wasn't anything like this film before it came out, one that balances dark humor with suspense alongside a claustrophobic atmosphere that makes for a compelling two hour viewing. One key star that was part of some of Wilder's successes for the decade was William Holden, who appeared in three of his features (with one more years later in Fedora). It was the result of these films that elevated him to prime star status, with this being his one Academy Award winning performance of three nominations, although he felt that he didn't deserve to win (instead favoring Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity). In fact, he actually disagreed with the characterization of the role (which had Charlton Heston and Kirk Douglas thought of before Holden), since he felt it was selfish and he wanted Wilder to make him nicer, which was rejected. In any case, one finds plenty to draw themselves into Holden and his world, a heel-hero with smarmy complex charm beyond the usual expectations for a film with suspense like this one, which plays to the film's favor in drawing out its traitor twist (kept under wraps by filming in sequential order) through subtlety in both Holden and the camera movement. The rest of the cast keep up with him in establishing the close-knit and hard-driven members contrast with the menace and bluster on the other end. In that sense, the ones who shine best are Strauss, Graves, Brand, Ruman, and Preminger, each delivering a distinct layer that makes the film operate as well as it does without feeling monotonous. There is a key balance of drama and humor that earns the film key moments that can go from a sequence involving a telescope on friendly Russian women to the discovery of the traitor to the whole group. In the long run, this is an entertaining film in a long line of Billy Wilder achievements that merits a watch as a key piece for the decade in balancing drama and humor without too much trouble.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Él.

Review #1383: Él.

Cast: 
Arturo de Córdova (Francisco Galván de Montemayor), Delia Garcés (Gloria Vilalta), Aurora Walker (Doña Esperanza Vilalta), Carlos Martínez Baena (Padre Velasco), Manuel Dondé (Pablo), Rafael Banquells (Ricardo Luján), Fernando Casanova (Lic. Beltrán), and Luis Beristáin (Raul Conde) Directed by Luis Buñuel.

Review: 
"[The cinema] is an instrument of poetry, with all that that word can imply of the sense of liberation, of subversion of reality, of the threshold of the marvelous world of the subconscious, of nonconformity with the limited society that surrounds us.” 

What can one say about Luis Buñuel that hasn't been said before? I am reminded of the fact that there have been over 800 directors featured on Movie Night, with a fraction of those being world cinematic directors. Buñuel has such a reach that I found myself doing a PowerPoint on him for my Introduction to Cinema class in college. In the course of a career that spanned two continents and 48 years, he made a total of 32 films in a life that found inspiration from numerous sources, with one film of importance being Fritz Lang's Destiny (1921), where he found that images could be the true means of expression. He soon moved from his native Spain (after having met future notable figures like Salvador Dali) to France, where he eventually found important influences such as Jean Epstein. After doing some assistant directing and work as a film critic, he collaborated with Dali on what would become his first film, Un Chien Andalou (1929), which was hailed by the surrealist movement of the time along with what Buñuel called the intellectual bourgeoisie (who he wanted to insult). It definitely is one of the most famous short films ever made, if not for the discussion over its content (or at least confusion over what it is). He would make two further films in L'Age d'Or (1930) and Land Without Bread (1933) while moving from France to Spain to the United States. While his next film would not be for over a decade, he worked in various ways around film, such as the dubbing department for Paramount and Warner Brothers, producer for Filmofono and for the Museum of Modern Art. In 1947, Buñuel found his way back into directing, this time in Mexico during what would soon become known as the Golden Age for Mexican cinema with Gran Casino. For the next few decades, Buñuel would spend time in various countries making films, with noted ones being Los Olvidados (1950), The Exterminating Angel (1962, which I saw clips for the aforementioned project), and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972), which won an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. 

The film was adapted by Buñuel and Luis Alcoriza from the novel Pensamientos by Mercedes Pinto, with inspiration being taken from memories of the husband that married Buñuel's sister, who was once paranoid enough to think that Buñuel was making faces at him and had to be convinced it wasn't him after he got his weapon ready. He felt that of all the films he made, this is the one that had the most of him in terms of autobiography, particularly in the main character. This film was shot in three weeks, with the eventual film proving a disappointment with audiences along with Buñuel in the quick conditions he had to make it in. Regardless of how the film turned out then, it is easy to say now that this is a well-done melodrama, one that touches upon repression in terms of religion (which Buñuel had grown up with before being disillusioned with it) and passion with a few surreal touches that goes along with a fair cast and cinematography from Gabriel Figueroa (who worked in both Mexican and American cinema for over 50 years). It is a claustrophobic movie to watch in its lead: a rich man with the power to attract people to him who is also quite deranged and jealous. In that sense, Córdova is up to task with plenty of furor to go around that is wrapped in paranoia and plenty of conviction to go with that, the kind of man who likes to view people from above as worms in the dirt. Garcés compliments him in this confinement with resilience, a person who tries to keep sane in a strange world wracked with trying to stoke a loveless marriage from death (which might prove true both figuratively and literally). The others prove just fine in providing perspective to the events depicted, with the highlight moment being at the end when Córdova's mind has its last breakdown, complete with cuts to an imagined responsive crowd. Ultimately, this is a haunting spectacle of perspective within romance and class that utilizes its 92 minutes wisely to make an interesting movie worth talking about today as a gem for world cinema. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Shane.

Review #1382: Shane.

Cast: 
Alan Ladd (Shane), Jean Arthur (Marian Starrett), Van Heflin (Joe Starrett), Brandon deWilde (Joey Starrett), Jack Palance (Jack Wilson), Ben Johnson (Chris Calloway), Edgar Buchanan (Fred Lewis), Emile Meyer (Rufus Ryker), Elisha Cook Jr (Frank "Stonewall" Torrey), Douglas Spencer (Axel 'Swede' Shipstead), John Dierkes (Morgan Ryker), Ellen Corby (Mrs. Liz Torrey), and Paul McVey (Sam Grafton) Produced and Directed by George Stevens (#911 - Woman of the Year)

Review: 
“I’ve always been of the opinion that a director should never touch a film without his having a basic knowledge of its contents.”

There have been a countless amount of Westerns to choose from when it comes to picking a film to watch and plenty that came from the 1950s. It should only prove natural that a classic as timeless as this one is came from George Stevens. Born in a family of actors and film crewmen, Stevens honed his craft first as a cameraman with the Laurel and Hardy film series before soon cutting his teeth as a director for shorts and eventually his first feature with the comedy The Cohens and Kellys in Trouble (1933). In the prevailing next few years, he would go on to do comedies and romantic dramas before he left to serve in World War II, which had a diverse selection of stars ranging from Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy (where he directed the first film to feature the two together in Woman of the Year) to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers with Swing Time (1936) to Cary Grant with Gunga Din (1939). He served with the U.S. Army Signal Corps as a head of the film unit, which filmed numerous events of the war such as the D-Day landings and shots of concentrations camps such as Dachau. When he returned to direct feature films in 1948, his films darkened in optimism, but he reached success with his ambitious efforts. He won two Academy Awards for Best Director for A Place in the Sun (1951) and Giant (1956), a feat matched by just twenty other directors before he closed his career with The Only Game in Town (1970). Stevens commanded respect from his fellow directors and stars, a man capable of keeping control of the film to himself and not at the whims of producers or big names, believing that films should be respected as more than just a tool to be used to sell products when they were aired on television.

It should only prove fitting that the film has a tremendous tense presence to headline a classic like this. Ladd (a man who tried his hand at extras and bit parts before getting his big break at the age of 29) is precisely the man for the moments required of him in this film, a weary presence that we see ourselves drawn to even before conflict has built itself to a boil. He doesn't have the biggest of backstories or the tallest of heights, but there is plenty to see within his eyes when interacting with the others, such as with deWilde or with Arthur, a graceful presence in her last performance before film retirement. Heflin keeps up with resilience fitting of a community man, while deWilde (who had his Broadway debut at the age of 7) makes a compelling coming of age presence that is crystalized with the final iconic scene with Ladd. The rest of the cast contribute in their own ways, such as a conniving Meyer. Palance utilizes his moments on screen with menacing precision through the way he says his lines, with the highlight being the sequence outside the saloon that builds tension right up until the gunshots are fired (done by shooting into a garbage can), complete with wires to jerk back the actor after being shot, a startlingly effective choice. The film was adapted from the Jack Schaefer's 1949 novel of the same name by Pultizer Prize novelist A.B. Guthrie Jr and columnist Jack Sher. It's interesting that the film turned out so well with the strange difficulties it faced at times with its stars. For example, Ladd, who disliked guns, took 116 takes when it came time to film the shooting demonstration sequence. Palance did not have much experience with guns or horses, and he had trouble in mounting (and demounting) his horse; the one take of him successfully mounting his horse would be used numerous times (along with being reversed for dismounts) during the film. This is a film that went from original plans of 58 shooting days to 75 (done in 1951) with extensive editing done by Stevens that led to delays. And yet here we are, talking about a classic for its decade because of how well-crafted it is, meticulous in its look in sets alongside award-winning cinematography from Loyal Griggs that go with a game cast and startling direction that certainly proved inspiring for future films (such as Pale Rider) while ultimately being a thought-provoking Western of a time that never ages and never dies.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.